


The sacrifice

by AniZH



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniZH/pseuds/AniZH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter misses Neal. But at least he knows he is not dead. And Neal does contact him over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this oneshot one month after the finale aired - in German and as I rewatched the whole series now, I finally translated it and changed a few things here and there. I still think my interpretation of the finale is a little different than the one intended, at least I get that suspicion whenever I read an interview with the creater of the show. But I think this fits well.  
> What do you need to know for this? Oh, yeah. Between every paragraph about a year happens. So don't get confused. :)  
> I hope you can enjoy this.

Peter did his best to not work too much. He finished his work on time and took holidays on the most important days. He wanted to count his birthday as such an important day but he wasn’t able to do it this year. There was just so much to do, not least because they had had to deal with a very good credit card forger for weeks now and through an informant they had known that they could finally figure out more about him.  
They actually did find out the identity of the forger which was a big step forward in their investigation and therefore extremely satisfied, Peter drove home in the evening.  
“Is it daddy?“ he heard a voice as soon as he came through the door.  
“Go see,“ he heard Elizabeth answer while he closed the door behind him.  
Obviously, the boy didn’t need to be told twice. He peeked around the counter of the kitchen door to see into the entrance area. He spotted Peter who got in view on purpose and the next moment he ran towards him with the brightest smile.  
Effortlessly, Peter pulled him up into his arms as soon as he was with him.  
“Happy birthday, Daddy,“ Neal said, after he wrapped his small arms around Peter’s neck.  
He was two years old now and Peter still couldn’t believe his luck.  
“Thank you, little one,“ Peter said and kissed him on the cheek while he went into the kitchen.  
There, on the counter, stood a big cake which had “Happy Birthday, Peter” written on it and a burning candle sticking in it.  
Just now, Elizabeth put the lighter back in one of the drawers and then smiled at him just as bright as their son had.  
“Hi, hon,” she said, “And again, a very happy birthday.”  
Of course, they all had seen each other already in the morning. Elizabeth even had wanted to come by with Neal during Peter’s lunch break, but because they had been in the middle of their big step forward, Peter had called her and had told her that she shouldn’t come. He had been afraid that Elizabeth would be annoyed with him because of it – he was really relieved to see that she wasn’t. But after all, it actually was an exception these day that he cancelled on her. And it had never been about her not understanding him and his work but the family needed to come first, his son needed to come first, and he always did.  
“Hey, hon,” Peter said and they shared a short kiss. They had just pulled apart again when Neal happily clapped his hands, and then pointed at the cake.  
“Wish for something, Daddy,” he said.  
Peter smiled, acted like he had to think about what to wish for for a moment and blowed the candle out. He wished for the same thing he had wished for last year: That he would always stay this happy, that Neal would always be such an incredible child, that Elizabeth and he would keep loving each other forever as much as they did.  
Elizabeth clapped her hands now and Neal of course followed suit.  
Then, Elizabeth said: “Of course, it’s your day but I thought we could eat the cake first, then you can open up your presents and after that I will cook dinner before the three of us continue celebrating.”  
“That sounds wunderful, hon,” Peter said honestly and put Neal down on the counter.  
In an instant, Neal turned to the cake which he probably had wanted to eat for hours and hours now.  
But Elizabeth had more to say before they would cut the cake: “But first, I want to give you at least a small present.”  
She lifted the newspaper up which had also been on the kitchen counter, and she pulled a postcard out from under it and handed it to Peter, saying: “I found it in the mailbox today.”  
The postcard showed the Eiffel Tower and neither had a stamp or a postmark on it nor an adress of any kind. Instead, “Happy Birthday, Peter” was written all over the site you were supposed to write on.  
And of course Peter recognized the handwriting. It was Neal. Neal had written those words on this card.  
He looked at it with a big grin, then to his son who curiously looked at the card, then to Elizabeth who watched him attentively and smiling.  
“Do you think he put it in himself?” she now asked.  
Of course, she also knew without it written on it, whose it was. And she knew how happy it made Peter after he hadn’t heard anything from his best friend since the wine bottle – which had been a very short and yet so important message from Neal.  
“I don’t think so,” Peter answered and looked at the Eiffel Tower on the other site. “I think he is still there. Maybe, Mozzie threw it in.”  
Mozzie didn’t come regularly, but he came. Sometimes, he came over every other day, then he wasn’t at their house for two month or more. Peter was sure that Mozzie had been in Paris more than once by now and actually had seen Neal again already.  
Sometimes, Peter felt like flying to Paris himself, searching for Neal. He knew he would be able to find him if he really wanted to. But he didn’t. His family needed him. His job needed him. And after all, there had been a reason Neal faked his own death and disappeared. He was sure him flying to Paris was more dangerous for everyone than Mozzie flying there.  
But he always had been sure that Neal still was in Paris. If nothing else, because a theft in the Louvre would even be in New Yorker newspapers – and there hadn’t been one yet. Neal wouldn’t leave the city without doing that. Peter knew enough of him to know that.  
“Can we eat the cake?” the child Neal asked suddenly, looked impatiently from the postcard, which meant nothing to him, to the cake, and Peter stroked his hair lovingly. “Of course. And you will get the first slice.”

 

Neal was three years old when Peter stood in front of the fridge, about to take a beer, and suddenly heard something at the back door.  
He thought about where he had placed his weapon when the door opened and Mozzie came in.  
After he bit back a bad curse as his child sat not far away on the couch and played, he said: “I have told you a thousand times that you should come through the front door like everyone else.”  
“You should know that I’m not like everyone else, Suit,” Mozzie answered and yes, Peter knew.  
But he hadn’t had the time to comment on that any further, or on the fact that Mozzie still usually came through the front door and that he, Peter, didn’t understand why he had to make these exceptions which always made Peter jump. Neal already came running after hearing the voice, absolutely delighted. “Uncle Mozz!”  
The next moment, Mozzie pulled him up into his arms. “Hi, Suit Junior. You’ve grown quiet a lot since I last saw you.”  
“Well... You haven’t been here for ages,” Elizabeth chipped in. She had also sat on the couch and had read a book there, but of course she had followed Neal.  
Mozzie and her hugged before she said: “It’s great to see you again.”  
“It’s great to see you, too,” Mozzie answered and looked over to Peter. “All of you.” Peter had to smile.  
“Come in,” Elizabeth said though Mozzie pretty much already was in the middle of their house. “Sit down.”  
She made a gesture to the dining table and Mozzie accepted the invitation and sat down.  
“Wine?” Elizabeth asked and Mozzie nodded. Peter finally took his beer while Elizabeth poured wine for herself and Mozzie before the couple sat down as well.  
Neal who had sat down in Mozzies lap looked expectantly at the man. “Where have you been for so long, Uncle Mozz?”  
“Far, far away,” Mozzie answered. “I just came back this morning.”  
Eizabeth smiled and abruptly turned to Neal herself: “Hey, sweetheart. Wasn’t there something you wanted to give Uncle Mozz as soon as he would visit again?”  
“The drawing,” the child exclaimed, stood up and then ran up the stairs to his bedroom.  
“You haven’t been in France by any chance?” Peter used the opportunity that his son wasn’t there, obviously just as Elizabeth had intented. She smiled as he grabbed the newspaper which still was on the dining table, opened it up and layed it in front of Mozzie.  
“Louvre-theft still unsolved” was the headline there and under it: “Multi-million dollar theft still without suspects after two weeks”.  
Mozzie shortly glanced at the headline and for a moment there was a smile in his face before he looked at Peter with a serious expression again: “I don’t know what you are talking about. I won’t confirm that I was in France while this happened. But... I am supposed to give you a certain someone’s reagrds.”  
“The Louvre!” Peter exclaimed as he had already done with Elizabeth. “Really! And nobody saw his face?”  
Peter was impressed. Of course, he was impressed. He always loved the smart ones – and the smartest somehow always had been Neal and would apparently always be Neal. That he had succeeded in stealing something out of the Louvre!  
Peter had waited for it. He had known that Neal would take his time. Not only to plan everything thoroughly but also because he had to know that a break-in into the Louvre would of course also appear in American newspapers and Neal couldn’t and wouldn’t want to risk the Pink Panthers or anyone close to them to ever become suspicious and find out he was still alive and well after all – and that they could still punish him for his betrayal. Peter knew.  
But now, he had done it and extremly succeccfully at that. Until now, there wasn’t even a bad photo of him from the break-in – or a composite sketch.  
Mozzie just grinned and was alreadysaved by the sound of some hurried steps on the stairs.  
The boy Neal was back, climbed into Mozzie’s lap and thrust a slightly crinkled piece of paper in his hand.  
“I’ve drawn this for you,” he said brightly and Mozzie smiled: “Really? What is it?”  
“This one is the White Knight,” Neal explained, pointing at the different people he had drawn, “this is the Dark Knight. This is the Clever Professor who always helps the Dark Knight.”  
Mozzie grinned. “It’s great. To the point. To be honest, I’ve brought more stories of the Dark Knight.”  
“You have?”, Neal asked excited. “Of the White Knight as well?”  
Mozzie fleetingly looked at Peter then put all of his attention back on Neal again. “Sadly, the White Knight wasn’t there this time. But the Clever Professor was. Do you want to hear a story?”  
Neal nodded enthusiastically and Mozzie decided: “Then let’s sit down more comfortable. To the couch.”  
Neal hadn’t had to be told twice and ran back to the couch. Mozzie stood up as well, took his glas of wine and the drawing he had been given, and went over to the couch as well. He already started his story, with many imaginitive remarks.  
Elizabeth reached for Peter’s hand and he took it as their shared an amused glance.  
They had wanted to spend a calm evening together as a family. But... Possibly, Peter and Elizabeth could sneak away later, sit down on the patio and have some time to themselves while Mozzie would divert Neal. Mozzie’s visit didn’t need to be bad for Peter.  
But first, they would sit down with them and listen to Mozzie’s first story – Peter was actually curious if he could somehow extract how Neal had gotten into the Louvre.

 

Today, he finished work in the early afternoon, picked up Neal at his preschool and would take care of him on his own until bed-time.  
Elizabeth had built up Burke Premiere Events again over time and had a long event today.  
Peter still had to think about what to do with Neal today but at the moment he didn’t get to think because Neal was talking and he did his best to listen. He just had picked the kid up – on foot because they lived close enough and the walk was always nice – and now they slowly walked through the streets hand in hand.  
Peter had listened to what his son had done over the morning, and just wanted to ask him if he had also eaten enough or if they had to take care of his hunger first when his mobile phone rang.  
In hope that it wasn’t work and something important, he pulled the phone out of his pocket. He didn’t recoginze the number but answered it anyway.  
“Peter Burke.”  
“Hi, Peter.”  
Peter stopped in his tracks. His son stopped next to him and looked up at him curiously.  
The voice at the other end continued on: “It’s great to hear your voice again. Mozzie had suggested to just record it for me but I thought, this way you can hear my voice too and we can actually finally talk to each other again.”  
“Neal,” Peter finally uttered and instantly, his son asked: “What?”  
“Not you,” Peter told him and shortly looked around him, saw an ice cream stand close by and said into the phone: “Just a moment.”  
He covered his phone and asked his son: “Do you want to eat ice cream?”  
Of course, Neal absolutely did want to eat ice cream and together they went to the stand, he decided carefully on a flavour and then they sat down on the stairs of a house entrance where the boy ate his ice cream – and Peter finally talked into the phone again.  
“Are you still there?”  
“Yes,” a voice answered that Peter hadn’t heard for too long. Neal.  
“How are you?”  
“Well,” Neal answered, “Very well. I hope you have time for me just now. I actually wanted to call later but as I haven’t slept much last night I wanted to sleep through the next one. And I have hoped to catch you at your lunch break.”  
Peter thought about how late it could be where Neal was. If he was still in Paris, it probably would be around 8pm.  
“I’ve actually already finished working for today,” he said. “I’ll take care of my son the rest of the day.”  
He looked at the boy next to him who licked his ice cream and watched the people walking by.  
Lovingly, he stroked his hair, while the grown-up Neal talked again: “I thought I’ve just heard him. How is he?”  
“Wonderful,” Peter answered with a smile and added: “El is also fine. She is working again which is why we take turns in picking him up from preschool.”  
Elizabeth still took care of him primarily. Anything else wasn’t possible with his demanding job. But it worked very well for the two of them. And it happened more and more that he finished work early like today – or did the rest of work, especially the paperwork, at home to watch their son.  
“So, you have finally managed to not let your job determine your life?” Neal said and Peter heard the grin in his voice and wished he wouldn’t just hear it but was finally able to see it again as well.  
For one long year after everything had gone down, he had seen Neal practically everywhere. Then he had found out that he was still alive and of course he had been relieved and was still extremely happy about it – but he hadn’t seen him anywhere since. What he would give for Neal being here, just conning him with this call into believing he was still far away when he would actually stand in front of him in a second.  
But Peter looked up and down the street; his best friend was nowhere to be seen. But at least, they finally were able to talk again.  
Slowly and smiling, he answered: “Children change a lot.”  
“I can imagine,” Neal said. “Is he everything you dreamed of?”  
“Yes,” Peter said without hesitation and looked back down to his son. “I love him more than anything.”  
The boy next to him still watched the other people with a keen expression, while he licked his ice cream. He was a wonderful boy who always seemed to know when Peter and Elizabeth took an important call, remained usually silent during that although he otherwise was a loud and cheerful little boy. But more than anything, he was extremly smart and Peter loved what kind of discussion he was already able to have with his son.  
But Peter knew that he would love the child either way, no matter what he was or what he would become. He was his son and therefore of course the most important person in his life.  
He stroked his hair again and then suddenly asked the grown-up Neal: “What about you? Someone special in your life?”  
“Not at the moment,” Neal answered and Peter hoped that he just imagined the distant suffering in his best friend’s voice – though he probably didn’t.  
“Will you come here soon?” he asked gently.  
“Some day,” was the only answer, then: “I have to go now. I am sorry.”  
Peter would have loved to keep talking, wanted to hear and know more about Neal.  
“But it was really great to hear your voice, Peter,” Neal continued and Peter had to smile and answered, just before it was beeping on the other end: “Right back at you.”

 

Roadwork was done right in front of his front door which was why he had to park his car a street away and walk the rest of the way for the last week. That’s what he had done today as well, this Friday evening, facing a completely free weekend.  
He was still deep in thought about a case they were already working for far to long, but he completely forgot about it when he walked into his street. Neal leaned on a wall two houses from the street corner.  
He stopped in his tracks. No, this couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Neal. Could it? Was he finally in New York again?  
And suddenly he spotted Mozzie right next to the man, talking to him. It was Mozzie who saw Peter first but the very next moment, Neal also looked at him.  
A bright grin spread in his face and he adjusted his hat in this awful, beautiful way while he pushed himself away from the wall with his foot.  
“Neal!”, Peter exclaimed and already crossed the distance.  
Neal just had enough time to take his hat off, then the two men were in each other’s arms.  
Neal still ursed the same cologne, still wore the same kind of suit. He felt so greatly alive and well in his arms, so there, right with him.  
After they had parted again, Neal finally raised his voice, still grinning brightly, but his eyes possibly a little watery. “Actually, it’s now Raoul. Raoul Lefort.”  
Peter hadn’t known Neal’s new identity until now. Oh, he had heard of some thefts and other crimes in Paris or other cities of Europe that he mentally had connected to Neal and also Mozzie. But the big theft of the Louvre still remained unsolved, there never had been a photograph nor a name.  
But of course Neal had a new identity. Peter had also been sure that he was able to find it out, just like he had felt sure about finding him in Paris. But he hadn’t wanted to stirr things up. He hadn’t wanted to give clues inadvertently, hadn’t wanted to get Neal imprisoned or worse.  
“You are French now?” he asked.  
“My father is French,” Neal answered easily. “I was raised in England by my American mother which is why I possibly have a little bit of an accent in French. I thought it’s safer that way although everyone tells me my French is perfect.”  
“A well thought out back-story is important,” Mozzie said with a nod.  
Peter nodded himself: “That’s true. Will you come home with me?”  
“We thought about if we wannted to surprise Mrs Suit already or if we want to wait for you but that’s obviously not necessary anymore,” Mozzie answered and with that they walked together to the Burke’s house.  
Peter didn’t pay attention to the street. He couldn’t believe that Neal was actually here again. He didn’t even stop touching him all the way to the house, kept one of his hands on one of Neal’s shoulders as if the man could disappear if he didn’t.  
Neal didn’t complain or shake it off, instead he fell easily in Peter’s stride as if to make sure there wouldn’t be more distance between them and Peter wouldn’t have to let go of him.  
They didn’t talk the short way home. Peter was lost for words and Neal just seemed to enjoy being back. Mozzie kept silent as well.  
As soon as Peter was in the house, he called out: “It’s me. And look who I brought with me.”  
Elizabeth, who had just put clean dishes back into the cupboards if the sounds were to be trusted, came instantly to look and a big smile spread over her face as soon as he saw Neal.  
“Neal! It’s so great to see you again!”  
“It’s great to see you again as well. As always you look beautiful,” Neal answered while they hugged tightly.  
Elizabeth hugged Mozzie as well after that, hadn’t he been here for a while as well, then she kissed Peter and while they still shared a “Hey, hon” their son Neal, five years old by now, came down the stairs.  
“Hi, Daddy,” he called out and jumped into Peter’s arms. He gave him a short kiss on his cheek before he put him down again so that he could greet Mozzie as well which he did.  
After that, he turned to look at the man he didn’t know yet, curiously. Of course, there were two or three pictures of him standing or hanging somehwere in the Burkes’ house but the boy was five and didn’t exactly study all the phtographs in the house.  
“And who are you?”  
“I am Neal. And you?” Neal answered and regarded the boy with a smiling and loving gaze.  
The boy beamed as if that were incredible news. “Me too!”  
For a moment, the grown-up stared at the child. Without doubt, noone had yet told him how Peter and Elizabeth had named their child, though Mozzie and he obviously had seen each other a few times over the years.  
Then, the grin was back in his face and with raised eyebrows he looked at Peter and Elizabeth: “Really? That melodramatic?”  
Of course, he was touched. Peter knew but it was nothing he would admit – nor would he have to.  
He pulled his son up in his arms again while he answered: “Nobody said that we named him after you. Neal is a great name with beautiful meanings.”  
After all, Neal meant “fighter” and “passionate” and those were attributes they had absolutely wanted to give him to take along his life.  
But of course, they had primarily chosen the name because of the man in front of them now. They never had wanted to replace him, nor could they have. And their child had never supposed to be a copy of this man.  
But the child Neal could remind them of intelligence and freedom. They wanted their son to be a free spirit and to always pursue more.  
“Uhu,” Neal said, still with a big grin. Without doubt, he knew the truth.  
Peter turned, his son still in his arms, and went to the dining table where he sat down on one of the chairs. The other’s followed suit and Mozzie showed a bottle he had had in his hand the whole time and which Peter had just missed with the excitement of Neal being back: “We brought the wine ourselves.”  
Elizabeth got glassed and noted that they would need more to eat this evening. Mozzie suggested that they could order. Meanwhile, Neal looked around the house from where he sat. The house that probably still looked familiar enough because they hadn’t changed that much over the years.  
The child Neal who sat on Peter’s lap looked at his namesake instead, intently, and finally adressed him after the grown-ups had clinked glasses with the wine: “Are you the Dark Knight from Uncle Mozz’ stories?”  
The grown-up Neal glanced to Mozzie who answered, extremely satisfied because the boy knew without anyone having to telll him: “That’s him in the flesh.”  
The boy thought for a moment, then: “Have you heard of me as well?”  
Neal looked to Mozzie again, then back to the boy: “If you are, by any chance, Suit Junior, Mozz has told me a thousand stories about you.”  
The child was more than satisfied with this. Of course, he was Suit Junior, he knew that, was that pretty much the only name, Mozzie ever called him.  
Elizabeth stroked the hair of her son lovingly before she asked the grown-up Neal: “Are you staying?”  
With that she undoubtetly didn’t mean if he would stay at the house for dinner or for the night.  
“Just for a short while,” he answered.  
Peter asked further: “Are you staying with June?”  
Neal shook his head. “No. Mozz has a few... accommodations for me while I am here. But I have met with June already as well. She offered me to move back in with her, even for a short time. But... It would be too conspicious.”  
It was too conspicious because only one person had ever lived with June: Neal Caffrey. And Neal Caffrey was dead. To even set one foot back in that life was too dangerous for Raoul Lefort. The Pink Panthers could get suspicious too easily. The Pink Panthers whom he had betrayed, whom he had put in prison. Who had still too much control, even in prison. Who would love to revenge themselves.  
And Peter knew that Neal possibly had a piece of his freedom back in his life that he ha been missing before, while he had been working for the FBI. He was finally free again to do what he loved. Those tricks that needed all his charm and all his skills. During which adrenalin was pumping through his whole body.  
But most importantly, he wasn’t constricted by the FBI anymore, he wasn’t forced to work for anyone or to hide from them. He wasn’t a prisonder anymore.  
But he had to sacrifice a lot for it, if not everything. He had had a wonderful home here, a good job and had had people around him every day with whom he had gotten on well with. He had given all that up for the people he loved.  
Without Neal Caffrey’s death, the Pink Panthers had wanted to have their revenge – and if they wouldn’t have gotten to him they would have gone to all the people that were important to him and kill them one by one.  
Never were they allowed to know that he survived. Never could his face be in any American newspaper again, his name mentioned again, his fingerpints taken and put back into the system anywhere..  
He was never able to get back into his old life. Possibly, he would never be able to live in New York again because too many people here knew him. This city he loved so much and which was his home.  
And they all knew the sacrifice he had made for their safety. But they wouldn’t talk about it and cloud the reunion with it. Not today when the child Neal finally had the chance to get to know his namesake.  
Instead, they would ask the grown-up Neal for details of his life and Peter would mention some of the crimes he suspected Neal off. Like always, Neal would grinningly deny any involvement but then tell them with Mozzie’s help how they could be possible – theoretically of course.  
It would be a long and wonderful afternoon, finally reunited.


End file.
